Page 6 of The Icy Duke Claims a Bride

“Oh, Jemima!” Catherine shook her head at her sister’s naivety. “We don’t know anything about this man. Maybe he has a scar from a terrible duel, or a large birthmark, or signs of some… unmentionable disease. He might just want to appear mysterious. What you think is shyness could be easily arrogance and disregard for the feelings of others.”

“I don’t think so,” her sister answered. “I believe he’s shy, and kind, and needs a wife, just as he says.”

“You don’t know men!” Catherine retorted. “You think they’re all like the dashing heroes in your novels, but they’re not. You must not start imagining yourself in love with the Duke of Redbridge.”

“I’m not going to imagine that at all, Catherine.” Jemima laughed. “He’s not interested in me, anyway. He wantsyou. Weren’t you watching him or listening at all just now?”

The Duke of Redbridge wantedher? The thought sent a terrible thrill through Catherine’s body. She had felt nothing but contempt for the men who had pursued her since she had debuted seven years ago. Their weakness and lust had been only too apparent to her eyes, even when partly hidden with sentimental words or bouquets of flowers.

This masked young nobleman was somehow different, although she could not say exactly how. It might be that his wants currently seemed more complex and opaque than she had expected. But surely all men only wanted the same thing from women in the end? A short conversation would likely show the Duke in the same light as all the others.

“Well, I don’t want him,” Catherine declared, taking up her teacup with a slightly unsteady hand. “I shall tell him so to his face.”

“Well, well, well…” Lord Sedgehall murmured again as they settled into the comfortable leather chairs on either side of the fireplace in his study, two glasses of good brandy on the table between them. “So, you wish to marry my eldest daughter, I gather?”

Hugh nodded, glad that this man seemed so understanding of his position and willing to be guided by the wishes of the previous generation. His grandmother had been right about Lord Sedgehall’s keenness to see his daughters married quickly. It boded well for the success of Hugh’s plan.

“I have heard that your eldest daughter is a good match for a man in my position. My wife must be fit for the title, and my grandmother says that there is little that Miss Wright could not accomplish if she set her mind to it.”

Lord Sedgehall guffawed and took a sip of his brandy. “Yes, that’s true, although there’s also little she will do once she has set herself against it. I pity the man who tries to tame my daughter, but she is a rational woman and open to reasoned argument, if not from me.”

There was an odd mix of pride and sorrow in Lord Sedgehall’s voice as he spoke of Catherine.

“I would seek to persuade her to accept my proposal rather than seek to overrule any natural inclination,” Hugh said. “Whatever dreams she might have about her future husband, there would be many compensations and advantages to setting these aside and becoming the Duchess of Redbridge—rank, jewelry, money…”

Lord Sedgehall’s eyes gleamed at the mention of the material benefits of such a union. The Dowager Duchess had also evidently been right about the Sedgehall estate’s financial troubles. Hugh doubted that his grandmother had ever been wrong about anything.

“I feel duty bound to warn you that Catherine dreams of no future husband,” Lord Sedgehall said bluntly. “She has turned down all the marriage offers she has received in the last seven years.”

Hugh swirled the brandy around his mouth thoughtfully. It was well that he would not be seeking to usurp some other existing prospect. But Catherine’s reluctance to marry could bean obstacle. At five-and-twenty, her father could hardly force her down the aisle.

“You think that Miss Wright would refuse my proposal? I assure you that I am quite determined in this matter. In beauty as in blood and reputation, there can be no more appropriate wife for me than your daughter. I have no desire to go hunting for the same qualities in London’s ballrooms when I can fix the matter with two conversations this very day.”

“Well said, Your Grace. Your fixity of purpose does you credit. My daughters are indeed of impeccable stock, excellent education, and fine physical form. If Catherine rejects your proposal, I would urge you to take Jemima. My youngest daughter is an acknowledged beauty, far less wilful, and five years younger than her sister. She has many suitors, but we have not yet settled on one in particular.”

Hugh nodded, remembering Jemima’s rosy-cheeked, round face. It would feel wrong in some ways to bring such innocence into his cursed life, but a wife was a wife, and she would grow up in time.

Then, he pictured Catherine again as he had first seen her in the drawing room, with her wild dark blonde hair and slightly disheveled dress. She was certainly just as beautiful as her younger sister, but also fiercer and stronger. He felt drawn to her in some way, as he had never felt drawn to a woman before.

The thought crossed Hugh’s mind that Catherine’s appearance this afternoon was almost that of a woman unexpectedly justpleasured by her lover. He could not help imagining himself as the man who had ravished her into such a state but then forced himself to stop. If she refused his offer, such fantasies could never be fulfilled, and there was no purpose in frustrating himself.

“Miss Jemima is very beautiful,” Hugh agreed. “I can understand her success in Society. But I am a man of thirty years, and I believe that my… lifestyle and character would better suit a woman who is a bit older and with more experience. If Miss Wright can be persuaded to have me, she would very much be my first choice.”

“That sounds very sensible, Your Grace, and I will do whatever I can to help. It is my dearest wish to have both of my girls well settled with good husbands long before I am in my dotage. You know, presumably, that I am not a wealthy man?”

Hugh shrugged, not wishing to reveal every detail that his grandmother had told him about the Wright family and the Sedgehall estate. It was, in any case, nothing to him.

“I made a poor investment in the north some years ago, and the workers’ unrest has drastically cut the returns I expected on my capital,” Lord Sedgehall revealed. “As that was the money I planned to set aside for my daughters’ dowries, I’ve been left in a quandary.”

“I see,” Hugh said, only from politeness.

“With Catherine having refused all offers and being almost six-and-twenty, I rather assumed that she would remain a spinster. I can scrape together the money for a decent dowry for Jemima, but it would be a struggle to provide for both girls—”

“I require no dowry,” Hugh quickly interrupted, as Lord Sedgehall was doubtlessly hoping that he would. “I have no sisters or other marriageable female relatives to provide for, and my fortune is ample enough to set Miss Wright and any children we might have up for life.”

Again, Lord Sedgehall’s eyes shone. He had probably expected some negotiation on this point, and paying no dowry for Catherine at all was likely beyond his best hopes.

“I am glad to hear that the Redbridge estate has continued to prosper over the years. Your grandfather was a fine man of business—of course, as was your father—God rest both their souls. It sounds as though you have proved yourself the worthy successor of their efforts.”

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